Chương 6
“Yes.”
Claire stopped breathing.
“When?”
“Last year.”
The refrigerator compressor clicked off.
Claire stared at her.
“You found Rebecca last year.”
“Yes.”
“Does Daniel know?”
“No.”
“Does Rebecca know where he is?”
“Yes.”
Claire gripped the back of the chair.
“Does she know about me?”
“Yes.”
“Margaret.”
“She found me first.”
“How?”
“Online.”
Margaret gave a tired shrug.
“It’s not 1989 anymore.”
“What did she want?”
“To know if he was happy.”
Claire felt something twist in her chest.
“And what did you tell her?”
“That he was married. That he was an architect. That he still refuses to eat mushrooms even when they’re chopped small.”
Claire almost smiled.
Almost.
“You talked about him.”
“For two hours.”
“On the phone?”
“Yes.”
“What else did you tell her?”
“That you and he were trying to have a baby.”
Claire’s chair scraped the tile.
“You told a stranger about our fertility treatment?”
“She isn’t a stranger to him.”
“She is to me.”
“You’re right.”
“No, don’t just say I’m right. Why would you do that?”
Margaret’s face tightened.
“Because she asked if he had children, and I answered badly.”
“That is private.”
“I know.”
“You keep saying you know.”
“I don’t have a better word.”
Claire walked to the window.
Outside, the neighbor had restarted the mower.
She pressed two fingers against the sill.
“Did Rebecca say why she never contacted Daniel?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She said she had tried twice.”
“When?”
“Once when he was twenty-six. Once when Thomas died.”
Claire turned.
“Daniel never got anything.”
“I know.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she sent the first message through Thomas’s old law firm. They forwarded it to me.”
Claire stared.
“And the second?”
“She mailed it here.”
“You intercepted his mail?”
“No. It came addressed to me.”
“Why?”
“Because she lost her nerve.”
Claire laughed, sharp and tired.
“This family.”
Margaret accepted it.
“What did you do with the messages?”
“I kept them.”
“In the box.”
“Yes.”
Claire rubbed her face.
“Why now?”
Margaret frowned.
“What?”
“Why keep the photograph somewhere it could fall out? Why keep the hospital card behind it? Why ask me to go into that closet?”
“I didn’t.”
“You asked me to find the deed.”
“In the hall closet.”
“You said top shelf.”
“The deed is in the green folder in the hall closet.”
Claire stared at her.
“You said bedroom.”
Margaret shook her head.
“No.”
Claire replayed the conversation.
Margaret in the passenger seat after the doctor’s appointment, annoyed about the property-tax notice.
Green folder, top shelf, bedroom—
Had she said bedroom?
Claire was no longer certain.
That bothered her.
She had been angry before they even got home. Angry at Daniel for working through Saturday. Angry at Margaret for refusing to use the online portal. Angry at herself because the fertility clinic had left a voicemail that morning asking her to call about an insurance denial.
Maybe Margaret had said hall.
Claire sat again.
“You didn’t set this up.”
“No.”
“You swear?”
“I have done enough without inventing more.”
Claire looked at the torn envelope.
“Daniel will want the box.”
“I’ll take him Monday.”
“Why Monday?”
“The bank is closed.”
For the first time all afternoon, a practical obstacle entered the room, and Claire was almost grateful for it.
A closed bank.
Normal.
Unmovable.
Nobody could scream it open.
Daniel did not come home until after eleven.
Claire was awake in bed, though she had turned off the light.
He entered quietly, changed in the bathroom, and lay down on his side facing away from her.
Claire waited.
His breathing remained uneven.
Finally she said, “Where did you go?”
“Office.”
“All day?”
“No.”
She waited.
He added, “I drove around.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Up toward Lake Norman. Then back.”
Claire turned onto her back.
“Margaret told me more.”
Daniel’s shoulders stiffened.
“I figured.”
“She found Rebecca last year.”
He sat up.
Claire immediately regretted not easing into it, but there was no easy entry.
“She what?”
Claire switched on the bedside lamp.
Daniel looked pale.
“She said Rebecca contacted her.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“How long has Mom been talking to her?”
“I don’t know. They had one phone call. Maybe more.”
Daniel got out of bed.
“Where’s my phone?”
“On the dresser.”
He picked it up.
Claire said, “What are you doing?”
“Calling her.”
“Your mother?”
“Yes.”
“It’s eleven-fifteen.”
“I don’t care.”
“Daniel.”
He stopped.
“What?”
“Do you want to have this conversation with her half asleep over the phone?”
He stared at the screen.
Claire added, “She also said there’s a safe-deposit box.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“Letters. A cassette. At least one letter from Rebecca that Thomas apparently hid. Margaret says the bank opens Monday.”
Daniel sat on the edge of the bed.
For nearly a minute, he said nothing.
Then, “Of course there’s a box.”
Claire pulled the sheet around her waist.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what part?”
“The frame.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“I’m still angry about that.”
“I know.”
“And I’m angry that you searched Mom’s things.”
“I wasn’t searching for secrets.”
“I know.”
“And I’m angry that you said I looked like I didn’t care what happened.”
“You did.”
Claire felt heat move through her chest.
“I said I was scared.”
“I heard you.”
“You don’t have to punish me because Margaret lied.”
Daniel looked at her.
“I’m not.”
“It feels like it.”
He put the phone down.
“Claire, I found out today that my mother isn’t my biological mother, my father may have illegally adopted me, my biological mother is alive, my mother knew where she was when I was sixteen, and apparently there is a safe-deposit box full of proof nobody thought I needed. I don’t have enough room in my head to make sure I’m being fair to you.”
The sentence stopped her.
He stood again.
“I’m sleeping downstairs.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to say something I mean for ten minutes and have to live with it for ten years.”
May you like
Claire looked at him.
“That’s surprisingly mature.”
